The Sabre's Edge

by Allan Mallinson

  'Let's 'ope so, sir,' said Johnson matter-of-factly, taking the reins of Hervey's second charger as Hervey himself began picking up each of the little Marwari's feet to check for stones. "Ave yer 'eard there've been some deserters an' all?'

  'There are always deserters, Johnson,' replied Hervey, just as matter-of-fact, picking out a pebble from the off-fore.

  'Ay, but they reckon these've gone over to t' Jhauts.'

  'Who reckons? How do they know?'

  'Corporal McCarthy 'eard. 'E always 'ears everything if they're Irish.'

  Hervey continued checking his mare's feet (they looked in good shape). 'And who are they from, these men?'

  'T' artillery.'

  Hervey looked up. 'The artillery!'

  'Ay, and supposed to be good gunners an' all.'

  Hervey tutted. He was not disposed to think that they could have gone over to the enemy, for he could see no inducement . . . except that as experienced gunners their services would be keenly sought, and therefore, he supposed, well rewarded. But surely they would not—'

  'An' one of 'em was at Waterloo, even!'

  That concluded it. 'Tattle, Johnson. I should sooner imagine the sar'nt-major a preacher!'

  But Johnson was unmoved. 'Well, that's what they're saying, Cap'n 'Ervey. Is there owt else?'

  Hervey shook his head. 'No, I believe we may offsaddle and give them some hay.' There was only grass, but hay was what they called it still. 'And we can take our ease too for an hour or so. Call me if Mr Sledge comes in. He said he might come up from Agra today. Oh, and . . . see if you can find out any more about these deserters, will you?'

  There was much to do, even had he not had the assignment at the Bhurtpore jheels. The camp was beginning to look like a bestiary come alive, with every manner of creature to provide milk or flesh for the army, or muscle or a strong back. His own troop might occupy him every minute, though for the most part they were not without experience. It was strange that they had seen action - fierce action - but had not yet been 'shot over', as the saying went. The affair at the river three years before had turned them into veterans overnight, and it had been long enough past to give them the taste for more of it now. Yet there were things he must check for himself - the firelocks especially, since he expected that what would come first against them at the jheels was better seen off with the carbine than the sabre. It was not something he could leave to his subalterns. Or rather, would leave. It was out of the question in any case to give the duty to Green, still as ineffectual as ever. Indeed, he would not even have passed the duty to Seton Canning, had he been with him still, for certain things were properly his particular responsibility.

  In the afternoon, he received copies of general and field general orders. He was keen to see the appointments to both the staff and to commands of brigades and divisions, for there had been endless speculation and not a little wagering, and he retired to the relative peace of his tent to peruse them with as much leisure as seemed apt:

  GENERAL ORDERS

  Head-Quarters, Agra, 3rd Dec. 1825

  The following officers are appointed Brigadier-Generals from 1st inst., subject to the confirmation of the Right Hon. The Governor-General in Council:

  Brevet-Col. J. M'Combe, 14th Foot. Brevet-Col. J. W. Sleigh, C. B. 11th Dragoons. Col. W. J. Edwards, 14th Foot. Lieut.-Col. Childers to be Brigadier.

  Capt. Hervey to be Loc-Major. Lieut. Maxwell to be Aide-de-Camp to Brigadier-General Sleigh.

  Division of Cavalry. - Brigadier-General J. W. Sleigh, C.B. to Command.

  1st Cavalry Brigade. - Brigadier Murray, C. B. 16th Lancers, to Command. Capt. W. Harris, 16th Lancers, Major of Brigade. - To consist of H.M. 6th Lt. Dragoons, 16th Lancers, 6th, 8th, and 9th Regiments of Light Cavalry.

  2nd Cavalry Brigade. - Brigadier M. Childers. 11th Dragoons, to Command. Lieutenant G. Williamson to be Major of Brigade. - To consist of H. M. 11th Dragoons, 3rd, 4th and 10th Regiments of Light Cavalry. - N.B.

  The Brigade of Irregular Cavalry, consisting of the 1st Local Horse, under Col. James Skinner. Troop 6th Lt. Dragoons under Maj. M. P. Hervey. 1st Division of Infantry . . .

  On went the list, specifying each and every non-permanent appointment. 'Baggage-Master of the Army’, as onerous a position as any might be, was to be filled by Lieut. J. M'Dermot, H.M. 14th Foot. And 'Brigadier-Gen. Sleigh, C.B., will be pleased to select, and send in the names of three smart, active, and intelligent Non-commissioned Officers of Dragoons, for appointments as Assistant Baggage Master of Divisions.' Hervey thought he had better have someone in mind lest the general devolve one of the number on his troop. Stray would be best, of course, except that he was not from his troop. Neither was he by any standard smart.

  And then, enclosed with these orders, there were others - a long exhortation, and in a style he knew from many a time in the Peninsula and France. The duke's own, indeed:

  FIELD GENERAL ORDERS

  Head-Quarters, Camp, Agra, Dec. 2, 182’ The Army now assembling for Service on the Agra and Muttra Frontier, being about to advance, His Excellency the Commander-in-Chief requests, that Officers commanding Regiments will impress upon their Officers, &c. the imperious necessity which exists, for each individual reducing the number of his servants to the lowest scale, and taking the Field as little encumbered with Baggage as possible; and desires that they will use their utmost endeavours to prevent superfluous individuals following the Bazaars of their respective Corps. All superfluous Baggage will be left at Muttra and Agra respectively, in the first instance, by Divisions, on advancing.

  The March about to commence being through the Territory of an Ally of the British Government, and not that of an enemy, His Excellency prohibits in the strictest manner, all marauding or plundering; and desires that Officers commanding Divisions and Brigades will cause it to be three times proclaimed to their respective Corps, that the Provost-Marshal has received peremptory orders to seize, and inflict summary punishment of Death, on any individual or individuals caught in the act of plundering. In thus publicly promulgating the decided measures to be resorted to in support of discipline, His Excellency feels assured, from the correct habits of the European and Native Troops under his command, that, as far as they are concerned, the warning above given is unnecessary; but as the followers of Bazaars of Corps might avail themselves of opportunities to plunder the inhabitants of the country and others, the Commander-in-Chief deems it necessary to promulgate thus publicly the retribution which will await such conduct.

  It was a handsome confidence, thought Hervey, if ill-disguised in its attempt to avoid besmirching the soldiers of the Line. It could scarcely be otherwise, this latter, though. His own troop he might vouch for, the NCOs certainly, but the arousal of baser instincts was something he had seen all too often to be so sure he would not see the same again, for there was nothing saintly about the men of E Troop. Better to tell them straight, perhaps with the excuse that one man might lose his wits in the noise of battle, and that Hervey's warning to him now might thereby save him his neck.

  He read through half a dozen more routine orders and calls for returns, alternately relishing his independent command and ruing it, depending on the requirements of the paper. Just as he was nearing the end, a despatch rider from the Cavalry Staff Corps rode into the lines. Hervey watched keenly as the red-jacketed dragoon reported to the regimental orderly tent, whence the corporal of the day emerged at once to bring him to Hervey's.

  Hervey was obliged to sign a receipt for the contents of the staff dragoon's sabretache. 'More, evidently, than just a call for returns,' he said as he did so.

  'Sir,' replied the man, giving nothing away, though he hoped it was indeed more than a routine despatch. He had just risked his neck in a gallop from Lord Combermere's headquarters, and he would prefer to return there with something more than a list.

  The corporal of the day watched and listened keenly for any indication of what the despatch contained. His standing in the canteen would be raised immeasurabl
y if he brought news in advance of actual orders.

  Hervey took the despatch, broke the headquarters seal and read quickly, but silently:

  FIELD SPECIAL ORDER

  Head-Quarters, Muttra, Dec. 6, 1825. Major Hervey, 6th Lt. Dragoons, is required to form a mounted party for a special task, consisting of one squadron H.M. 11th Lt. Dragoons, and one rissalah 1st Local Horse. The party is to be ready at once to undertake the task on orders emanating directly from H.E. the Commander-in-Chief, along the lines already communicated. The object and design may not be communicated to any man, however, until approval by H.E. By Order of His Excellency the Right Hon. The Commander-in-Chief,

  (Signed) W. N. WATSON Adjutant- General.

  It was no more or less than he needed. 'Thank you, staff dragoon. Please return the following reply.'

  The man had his pocketbook and pencil ready. 'Sir.'

  'Major Hervey acknowledges receipt of the special order, and comprehends it.' 'Sir.'

  The corporal of the day looked disappointed. He would have to embellish his account to the canteen considerably.

  'That is all,' said Hervey, when the staff dragoon looked up again.

  The man slipped his pocketbook back inside his jacket.

  'Up!' said the corporal of the day.

  The two right hands shot, as one, to shako peaks, and Hervey nodded to acknowledge. As the two men left, he called the troop orderly corporal waiting outside. 'Have Mr Perry come, please, Rudd.' He then mastered himself fully: 'And Mr Green. And the sar'nt-major of course.'

  'Sir!'

  Hervey was glad it was Rudd. Rudd was an honorary pal - more than honorary, since the original pals were now but two. And there was something that nurture in that corner of the Great Plain did by way of making comrades across the ranks. 'Corporal Rudd?'

  'Sir?'

  'How handy were you about your mother's shop?'

  ‘Sir?’ Corporal Rudd was glad there were no witnesses to this exchange; he did not like being reminded of the millinery.

  'I mean, how well are you with needle and thread?'

  . 'As good as any, sir. Have you something to be mended?'

  'No. Johnson could do that. I need a more skilled needle. Embroidery.'

  Rudd looked puzzled. 'I can do that, sir, if it's not too knotty. What is it you have in mind, sir?'

  'I need something that passes for a major's star on these epaulettes.'

  Rudd was all pleasure at the prospect.

  'But you shall have to unpick it when the siege is done. Local rank only, I fear.'

  'Very good, sir. But rank is rank, isn't it, sir?'

  'Thank you, Rudd. You are the first to hear.'

  'You mean not even Johnson, sir?'

  'Not even Johnson. Go to it, then - the officers and sar'nt-major. Oh, and say nothing to Johnson.'

  Rudd smiled. 'Ay, sir.'

  Hervey lost no time that afternoon. He told his officers and serjeant-major the contents of the several orders, and added his own. He wanted the troop to ride at light scales, with no bat-horses (he would long remember the dismay on Cornet Green's face) save with the serjeant-major for extra powder and ball. The baggage he wanted dividing into two: field stores and other necessaries - that which could be carried by pack-animal - to be put in charge of the quartermaster-serjeant and to move with the rest of the brigade; the remainder -camp stores and general comforts - to stand ready under Corporal Stray with the bullock carts here at Muttra awaiting opportunity to rejoin them, which, he believed, there would soon be once the siege was under way. 'But it shall have to be judged right,' he said. 'I don't want the Jhaut cavalry cutting them up, which is why I want Stray with them.'

  Serjeant-Major Armstrong smiled. Corporal Stray was the fattest man in the regiment. The order 'light scales' had at once precluded his riding in the first echelon, for Stray was generally now to be found on the box rather than in the saddle. And yet there was not a man in the Sixth who was more at home in the field than Corporal Stray. His economy with stores was celebrated, he could fashion any necessary from the most unpromising raw materials, and quickly too, and he was utterly imperturbable in the face of enemy and superiors alike. Once, in Paris after Waterloo, he had been posted as lone sentry on a bridge that the Prussians were intent on blowing up for solely retributive reasons. The explosive in place, the officer of engineers had asked him to quit the span and seek cover, to which the then Private Stray had replied, 'Not until properly relieved by the corporal, sir.' The Prussians had lit the fuses, but still Stray would not budge, standing on-guard with the bayonet when they tried to remove him bodily, so that in the end the engineers had had to rush about frantically pulling the fuses from the barrels of gunpowder. Corporal Stray was not a man to have in the front rank at a review, but he was without doubt a man to have at hand on campaign, and Hervey was pleased for having the promise of him for a time.

  After doing what he needed with his own troop, Hervey had addressed himself to the matter of the other corps. The commanding officer, the senior major, proved difficult at first, demanding to know what was the object of the special task despite the clear injunction in the written order. At length he had given way, however, naming the captain to do duty with his squadron, and had acceded at once to Hervey's request for a farrier. The regiments of the yellow circle, as the cavalry knew themselves, could have their difficulties with each other, but these remained within the circle and were fiercely guarded. Perhaps it was the fellowship of the horse, the common essential of their arm, for the horse took no side for himself in a fight, instead submitting humbly but nobly to the bit in whichever cavalry had impressed him. Sometimes, his rider unseated, he ran away, terror-stricken, but for the most part he remained dutiful, despite all privation. Hervey looked about at the Eleventh's troopers as he left the lines. They were as mixed a bunch as any in Hindoostan, but bigger than his own in the main by a good half-hand. If they bore the field well, they would be formidable indeed when it came to closing with the Jhaut cavalry -more so than his own, he had to admit, for size told when it came to a clash.

  Next he had gone to Skinner's Horse, and if he had anticipated vexations with the Eleventh, he was positively certain that they would be legion with the irregulars since Colonel Skinner was in personal command. He had never met James Skinner, he had only heard of him. Indeed, there had been times since coming to India when he had heard nothing but of Skinner and his silladar horse. Three regiments there were of these singular cavalrymen, of which the second was commanded by James's brother Robert, and the third, hastily raised for service in East Bengal five years before, had without doubt saved his own troop in the affair of the Chittagong river. The Sixth Light Dragoons, or Hervey's troop at least, regarded them as special friends. They admired their skill as horsemen, and with the lance; they admired their boldness and proud independence; and they admired their determination to see things through. Skinner's was not native horse in the sense the canteen would understand it - serviceable but inferior: Skinner's was a corps apart.

  Their camp was a vivid, lively place, noisier by half than any King's regiment's, with much music and singing. It might have been Tamerlane's own, the canvas and caparisons, the silks and the streamers, and all of the richest colours. As Hervey rode towards the guard tent, the sowars of the picket began falling in under their daffadar, lance pennants picking up the merest breath of wind, men and lances otherwise like statuary.

  A syce ran forward to hold Gilbert's bridle as Hervey dismounted. The daffadar saluted. Hervey turned, to find a jemadar beaming at him. 'This way, please, sahib.'

  Hervey followed to the tent of the woordi-major, who explained that both the second in command and the adjutant were at exercise. Then a bearer came into the tent, and, after an exchange of words, the woordi-major said that Colonel Skinner himself would see him. Hervey put his forage cap back on and walked with him across the maidan to a yellow-striped pavilion set to one side nearest the river. The sentry came to attention as the two began walking
the line of whitened stones. As they reached the beaded entrance a voice called from inside. 'You are most welcome. Major Hervey!'

  Hervey noted with appreciation how nimble must be the regiment's hircarrahs. He pushed aside the strings of beads and paid his compliments.

  'I know very well who you are, Major Hervey. I have naturally heard all there is of the affair of the Chittagong river. I stand in admiration, sir,' said James Skinner, designated commandant of what was officially the 1st Local Horse. He held out his hand.

  Hervey took it, and acknowledged the accolade with a bow of the head. 'But it is I who stand in admiration, Colonel Skinner.'

  'Well, well, let not either of us stand long. Take a seat. You will have some whisky?’

  It was a moment or so before Hervey could judge whether he was speaking to a British or a native officer. One half of Colonel Skinner was Scotch, his father's half. His voice was that of a British officer, perhaps a shade fastidious, but without all the music of the native voice, the hanji-banji as Somervile called it. But it was the Rajpoot half, his mother noble-born, that presented itself in appearance most. James Skinner was forty-seven years old, his hair was silvering, and his face, though benign, spoke of many years’ campaigning, and for several masters (only in Lord Lake's day had he thrown in with the Company). He had raised and trained the corps himself. He had given it its creed, and thence its uniform, and had led it to victory after victory against any that would oppose those 'sworn to die'. His wealth from booty was said to be prodigious, he had three wives - one Mahomedan, one Hindoo, one Christian -yet he was no dissolute nabob. He was as much a scholar as Babur had been, speaking and writing flawless Persian, and knowledgeable in the history and art of all of Hindoostan. His men worshipped him. But why was he here, in the field, in person? Hervey wondered. He was three years older than the duke had been at Waterloo. He might easily have devolved command on an executive officer. The share in any booty, such that it might be in a campaign made in the territory of an ally, would anyway go to him as the colonel of the corps -even if London (Hervey understood) would not officially recognize his rank. Did Colonel Skinner, who could have taken his ease in Dehli or on his jagirs nearby, crave still the sword and the saddle for their own sake? There were such men, and Hervey saluted them. Indeed, he took more pleasure in Skinner's chair and his whisky at that moment than if they had been those of the duke himself.